


Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out

by orphan_account



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Smoking AU?, all the shamless flirting, lots of cigarettes and tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7000888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke doesn’t like Bellamy. She barely knows the guy. She’s just attracted to him. The way his lips wrap around the filter of his cigarette, the tilt of his head as he exhales, jawline and cheekbones exposed for all its glory, the low husky tone of his voice, long thin fingers ever so delicately flicking his cigarette over her ash tray.<br/>Clarke is attracted to Bellamy.</p>
<p>Or so she convinces herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe Me In, Breathe Me Out

Clarke doesn’t remember exactly when she started smoking. A month after her father’s death? A week after her mother married another man? The day she moved to a quieter town, away from the bullshit back home? It’s hard to remember. But it has been years now since her first bud and Clarke still loves it. Why? Clarke wasn’t sure of it at first. A distraction? Pleasure? A way to relax? An addiction?

Definitely an addiction. 

The first time had been beyond awful, choking and gasping, spitting out the foreign taste on her tongue. But as time passes, you get used to it. The feeling of the bud resting on between your fingers, taking long drags and letting the strange lightness fill your lungs, the taste of peace. Holding in the smoke a little longer even when your chest feels a tad bit tighter. Your head feels light and dizzy and it’s as if you’re falling yet you close your eyes and enjoy the serenity of it all. And when you exhale, mouth forming a small ‘o’ shape, head tipped back and you slowly open your eyes. Watch as the thick smoke hang above you, soft swirling patterns crawling over nothing before thinning out and disappearing into the atmosphere.

Clarke decides that’s her favourite part. Exhaling. She enjoys watching people do it. How different shapes their lips create, how calm they look like as if releasing their troubles off with the smoke, how the smoke surrounds them for a couple of seconds before dispersing freely into nothing.

 

And Clarke doesn’t mean to stare. Not really. But it’s barely half past 5 in the morning and she feels annoyed as fuck after having pull out an all-nighter on her recent art project that is to be handed in in 3 hours, cigarette bud hanging loosely between her fingers. So when she hears a loud crash and a couple of mumbled curses coming from the apartment adjacent to hers, Clarke can’t help but turn and watch as her neighbour unceremoniously stumbles out onto the balcony, connected to hers, fishing out a zippo and his own stick of Marlboro from the back pocket of his jeans. Clarke watches a little subtler than before as he wraps his lips around the end of the stick, lighting it up and the flames causes the lower half of his face to glow a little in the dark. Clarke watches as he closes his eyes, taking a long drag and let the smoke settle a little in his chest before slowly puffing it out. Clarke notes as his shoulders sag a little in what Clarke thinks is relief.

“Feels good huh?” Clarke says, now staring ahead into the darkness. She takes a drag from her own cigarette and peeks from the corner of her eyes as her neighbour mirrors her position, resting his arms on the railing, looking straight ahead before inhaling once more. Clarke thinks there’s a slight smirk on his face but she’s not entirely sure.

“Well, after carrying all those shits up here, yeah, feels hella good,” he replies and Clarke notes the deep rumble of his voice and thinks it’s a little sexy.

She watches as he flicks his cigarette, letting the ashes fall onto the lawn below. She turns around to face her neighbour, pushing her ash tray towards him and balancing it on the two railings where their balconies meet. He turns too after another drag but this time flicking the ashes into her tray instead before looking up to face her.

To say the man is handsome doesn’t do any justice to that face. He’s _beautiful_ and Clarke shamelessly eyes him like he’s an exhibition in a museum. All tanned skin and freckles, mop of curly dark hair falling just below his brows, tiny scar right above his upper lip. Clarke’s eyes travel down from his face and Clarke guesses from the dark splotches peeking out from the neckline and sleeves of his sweater that the man has tattoos. Lots of them and Clarke wants to see them all.

“Bellamy Blake,” he says and Clarke jerks his head up from where it was travelling even further down and met eyes with the man – _Bellamy_ – and his cocky little smirk. Clarke notes, a little belatedly, that Bellamy has his hand outstretched towards her and quickly squashing her cigarette onto the ashtray before taking his hand for a firm shake.

“Clarke. Clarke Griffin,”

It’s brighter now that the sun is beginning to rise and the light falls on Bellamy so perfectly that Clarke finds herself staring again. Clarke doesn’t know what draws her so much to the guy, having only just known him. Was it his ridiculously handsome face? The deep vibrations of his voice? Was it the dark aura he carries? The fact that he smokes a Marlboro Gold? Maybe. Clarke feels her skin tingle slightly as Bellamy’s eyes scan across her face too.

It’s brighter now and that means Clarke has to be at the building in an hour and her apartment is freaking mess and she really wishes she could call in sick if it wasn’t for that stupid project her boss wants to critic before displaying it at the showcase.

“Shit, I got to go,” she mumbles more to herself than to Bellamy. She makes a turn to walk back into the apartment, stopping just a step before the glass door and turning to Bellamy again. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around,”

Clarke swears she saw Bellamy’s lips twitching upwards a little around the corners.

* * *

 

Their next meeting is a night later and Clarke’s the one stumbling out of her room this time. Bellamy turns his head and chuckles and Clarke huffs a strand of hair off her face. She doesn’t lift her head to look at him but his laugh rings in her ears a little longer than intended.

Clarke pulls out a cigarette from the box in the back pocket of her jeans and tucks it between her lips, hands wandering around her body for her lighter. Groans in annoyance when she can’t find it. She really doesn’t need this right now. All she wants is to find some sort of tranquillity for the next hour or two.

She hears Bellamy chuckling more and she’s about to turn to see what’s so funny when a flame appears right in front of her eyes and she jumps a little. Bellamy laughs a little harder and Clarke thinks she can get use to the sound.

Clarke looks at him wearily and she sees a little glint in Bellamy’s eyes. She leans her face closer to the flame, now lowered to her mouth area, takes a short drag before pulling the bud out of her mouth.

“Thanks,” she says after exhaling.

“Having a hard day, neighbour?” And Clarke can hear the slight underlying teasing tone in his voice.

“Mm,” she hums, taking another drag. Longer this time. “Every day is hard if your boss is a money-sucking dick,”

“Don’t swear Princess, doesn’t suit that pretty face of yours,” he laughs.

Clarke rolls her eyes at him, ducking her head to fight down the blush she feels creeping up her neck. She glances into his apartment quickly, taking in the mess before turning back at him with a quirk of her eyebrow.

“A tornado flew into your room or something?” she says a little distractedly as Bellamy exhales, the thick circle of smoke gets bigger and thinner as it melts into the cool night air.

“Something like that,” he says and Clarke admires the way the moonlight reflects his face at all the right angles. “At least I got most of my things to where it belongs,”

Clarke’s gaze snap back up to his eyes when Bellamy lips quirk into a smirk and she mentally slaps herself for being so obvious. She plays it off with a dumb ‘I hope you enjoy staying in this neighbourhood’ before quickly stubbing out her cigarette and retreating back into her apartment before she does more stupidly embarrassing things.

* * *

 

Clarke doesn’t _like_ Bellamy. No. She barely knows the guy. She’s just attracted to him. The way his lips wrap around the filter of his cigarette, the tilt of his head as he exhales, jawline and cheekbones exposed for all its glory, the low husky tone of his voice, long thin fingers ever so delicately flicking his cigarette over her ash tray.

Clarke is attracted to Bellamy.

Or so she convinces herself.

The adding pile of buds in her ash tray shows just how many times she and Bellamy smoked together. Somewhere along the way they’re conversations develop from small talks about cigarettes and some jokes here and there to talking about themselves. They even exchanged numbers after the second week since Bellamy moved in.

Clarke doesn’t mind it one bit. She gets to watch Bellamy as he smokes his cigarette and the air just outside their rooms smells so much of smoke and it’s familiar and comforting and Clarke really don’t mind getting to know Bellamy better.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Clarke says to the phone, tucked between her ear and shoulder as she tosses her keys and bags to the side. She makes her way to the fridge and grabs a can of beer before heading towards the balcony.

“Hey, are you on the way home? By any chance you could -” Stops when Clarke appears beside him, phone still to her ear even as she turns to look at Bellamy. “Never mind,” he says to the server though his eyes are on Clarke.

Clarke giggles at his silliness, tucks the phone away in the back pocket of her jeans and fishing out her pack, offering one to Bellamy who accepts it a little sheepishly.

“Sorry, I finished earlier today. I could’ve gotten you a pack if you texted. Beer for a lighter?” she says apologetically. Bellamy’s face split into a grin as he tosses her the zippo and taking the beer can in her hand in exchange.

Clarke lights her cigarette, placing it between her lips before lighting Bellamy’s, who slightly extends his hand with the bud towards Clarke.

“Keep it. You keep forgetting yours anyway,” Bellamy snorts but offers her a small smile before sipping the beer. Clarke ignores the increased beating of her heart as his Adam’s apple bob slightly when he swallows. Wonders if the mix of beer and cigarette burns more in his throat like how it does to Clarke’s.

“Nah, if I would’ve taken it -” Clarke starts, leaning over the metal railing to slip the zippo into the breast pocket of Bellamy’s shirt swiftly. Small smile playing on her lips even though they threaten to pull into a wide grin. “- I wouldn’t have an excuse to smoke with you anymore,” she finishes, not missing the way his eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

Bellamy lets out a short amused breath, somewhere between a laugh and mockery. “Are you telling me you’re looking for excuses to see me, Princess?”

Clarke can hear the cockiness in his voice and he leans forward where Clarke is still resting on the railing joining the two balconies. Clarke shoves him away playfully and they both laugh, turning back to their own railings before almost simultaneously taking a drag each. She exhales out into the air in front of her, watches as the street buzz a little and the sun sets on the opposite side of their apartment.

They smoke in silence for a little while until the sun completely sets under the horizon. Clarke turns to look at Bellamy who seems to be playing with his fingers since his cigarette is already out. Clarke eyes his long slender fingers absentmindedly tracing the inked words and designs on his knuckles and wrists.

“How many tattoos do you have?” she asks curiously.

“I don’t know anymore. Too many to keep track,” Bellamy replies, shrugging slightly and Clarke notices how his fingers linger on the tattoo on the inside of his wrist a little longer than the rest. It’s a bunch of Roman numerals and Clarke guesses it’s a date and she catches herself wondering about its significance.

“Someone special?” she asks and Bellamy tenses just the tiniest bit before humming in response.

“A girl?” Clarke asks before she could stop herself.

Bellamy’s jaw slacks slightly and his eyes relaxes, looking almost soft, before replying. “A woman.”

Clarke ducks her head down fast, embarrassed by her importunity.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s my mother. She died a couple years back, some sort of brain tumour” he cuts her off. Clarke’s surprised by his openness, mouth forming a small ‘o’. But when Bellamy lifts his head up to give her a slight shake of his head and a small gentle smile as if to say it’s okay, that he’s over it, Clarke returns his smile with her own.

“I lost my dad too, a couple of years ago,” she confesses, playing with the ring on her finger that used to be her father’s. She’s not sure why she said it, maybe it’s because Bellamy’s so open with her and she wants to be the same. When she sees Bellamy looking at her with the same gentle smile from earlier, she nods shyly, an unspoken understanding shared between them.

* * *

 

“Who are you calling so damn early in the morning?” Clarke growls into the phone, but there’s no real heat in it. In fact, her heart flutters a little when she saw Bellamy’s name pop up on her phone.

She ignores the feeling, of course.

“Good morning to you too, Princess,” Bellamy says in his low gruff voice but Clarke can practically hear the teasing smirk he has on his face. “Do you happen to be on the way home?”’

Clarke rolls her eyes, feeling a smile tugging insistently on the corners of her lips. She already _knows_ where this is heading. Clarke doesn’t know why Bellamy has to call when she bets he can _see_ her silhouette through the curtains from the balcony. He knows she’ll be out there soon anyways. She doesn’t complain of course. If this gives Clarke a reason to hear Bellamy’s morning voice over the phone, she’s not complaining.

“Unfortunately, no but-” Clarke plays along, walking out to the balcony with her coffee and cigarettes. She ends the call when she sees Bellamy leaning against his railing, looking at Clarke with that stupid smirk Clarke swore she _heard_ over the phone just now. Stalks over towards Bellamy, balancing the coffee on the windowsill before pulling out two cigarette buds from her pack, offering one to Bellamy. “Cigarette for a lighter?” Bellamy laughs brightly, accepting the cigarette before pulling out his zippo to light both their buds. Clarke notices Bellamy holding his own cup of coffee and catches herself wondering how he takes it. If it’s with a shitload of sugar and milk or if it’s black and bitter.

“Haven’t bought your own pack yet?” Clarke asks, snapping herself out of her thoughts.

“Nah, if I bought my own pack, I wouldn’t have an excuse to smoke with you anymore,” Bellamy says, all teasing and mischievous, leaning casually against the railing and Clarke laughs.

“Are you telling me you’re looking for excuses to see me, Blake?” she echoes his words back from a few weeks ago, playfully smirking at him.

“Always, Princess. Always,” he winks and Clarke feels herself redden furiously at the shameless flirty banter going on before dropping her gaze to sip at her coffee.

Clarke hopes her blush isn’t as obvious as she thinks it is but when she sees Bellamy smiling smugly against the rim of his coffee cup, she curses herself for being so pale.

* * *

 

She doesn’t remember how they got here, just remembers that she’s having the shittiest day ever that she doesn’t even want to smoke her own cigarette. She still offers Bellamy one and when he notices the downturn of Clarke’s lips and the slight furrow between her brows, he jumps over the railing separating the two balconies and walking back to sit against the glass door. Clarke raises her brow in question but moves to settle beside him anyways.

So here they are, back against the cool glass door of her apartment, thighs and knees barely touching. Bellamy smoking and Clarke just staring into space, mind elsewhere. Bellamy doesn’t question but she’s grateful for the silent comfort he gives.

Clarke’s fingers move before she’s aware it is and she traces the outline of Bellamy’s tattoos on the back of his hand. “May I?” she asks, albeit belatedly and Bellamy just nods. She traces the outlines of the alphabets on his knuckles that spells out FAST, moving up some sort of vine starting from his wrist and disappearing into the sleeves of his shirt.

When she’s satisfied with the journey she traces around Bellamy’s arm, Clarke looks up and belatedly realises how close she’s leaned in into Bellamy’s space. Their faces no more than a couple of inches apart and Clarke is a little surprised but doesn’t move away, not when Bellamy is looking at her with such intensity in his eyes that she can’t decipher what. His gaze drops momentarily below her eyes and Clarke feels her heartbeat speed up a notch. But Bellamy brings the cigarette up to his lips, inhaling hard and long, then keeping the smoke in for a bit. Only when he leans in _even closer_ did Clarke caught up on what he’s trying to do. _Shotgun_. Clarke feels a little embarrassed with herself, thinking it was going somewhere slightly more… intimate, but opens her mouth slightly nonetheless to tell him she’s ready. Bellamy exhales slowly, mouth a small ‘o’, aiming the smoke into Clarke’s mouth and Clarke inhales as much as she could before her lungs constricts a little too tightly and she turns away to exhale out through her nose.

Tension fills the air and it’s not necessarily the bad kind. Except Clarke is a little flustered because that was _hot_ and she’s trying to tamp down her nerves.

“So, how many piercings do you have?” Bellamy starts casually and Clarke is grateful he’s saying something to ease off the thick air between them. “I mean I can see from your ears that you a thing for those little metal things,”

“I actually have four more on my hip bones, two on each side. Used to have one on my belly, got bored of that one quickly,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know Princess,” he says, standing up and stubbing his cigarette into the ash tray before jumping back on his side of the balcony. “I never thought you’d be so badass with that darling face of yours. I would admit it’s kinda hot but that’d mean I’m attracted to you. So I won’t say it,”

Clarke laughs and raises her brows as a challenge. “You know Blake, I would tell you that _you_ look kinda hot like – that,” Gestures vaguely towards Bellamy, dressed in a plain three-quarter sleeve shirt, dark-washed jeans that are slightly tight around his thighs, hair a little tousled and messy from the wind. “But that’ll mean I’m checking you out. So I won’t tell you,”

Clarke, a little _too_ proud with her little comeback, makes a turn to enter her room only to stop by the entrance when Bellamy calls her out.

“I’ll see you?” he asks even though he knows the answer already.

“Yeah,” Clarke replies, still feeling playful and teasing. Winks at him before entering the room and drawing the curtains, leaving Bellamy alone in the balcony with an amused eyebrow disappearing under his bangs.

* * *

 

“Shit, it’s so cold,” Clarke whines as she steps out onto the balcony. Winter is right around the corner and it is Clarke’s favourite and most hated season of the year. She rubs her hands up and down her arm, hoping to get some sort of heat from the friction. There’s an occasional roar of the engine as a car drives past on the tiny street just in front of the building but aside from that, the night is relatively peaceful. She pulls out a cigarette and glances back to Bellamy’s apartment only to find it pitch black. Clarke sighs. Looks like she has to dig somewhere for a damn lighter and maybe grab a jacket or something on her way back.

Just as she turns, a figure jumps out from the separating wall, flame appearing so close to her cheek and Clarke nearly shits herself.

“Hey,” Bellamy huskily says. Clarke thinks he looks super constipated trying to hold back his laugh. Clarke’s scowling at him but when Bellamy slings a thick clothing – a jacket, Clarke tries not to think of how much it smells _just_ like Bellamy – around her and pulls her closer against the railing, she doesn’t resist. Bellamy reaches down her body to pull out a cigarette from the back pocket of her jeans, hands hovering so close to her body that she feels the heat radiating off him. Even then, Clarke doesn’t resist.

She’s a little too far gone for that.

“Missed me?” Bellamy laughs, low yet bright and Clarke sees the stars twinkling in those mischievous dark orbs of his eyes.

Yep, definitely too far gone.

“Tch, you wish. You made me drop my cigarette, asshole,” Clarke growls, sending daggers his way with her eyes. “Not to mention that you took another one-”

“The last one, to be precise,” Jumps back when Clarke throws punches his way. He laughs harder now, so loud that the elderly lady across the street yells at them for being such kids.

“We’re sorry!” Bellamy yells back, still chuckling and the lady retreats back into her house, shaking her head in resignation.

“I gave you my jacket, my lighter, what else?”

“Give me a cigarette,” Clarke mumbles and sighs a little exaggeratedly to prove her disappointment.

“Okay, okay, come here,” Bellamy says, pulling Clarke by the sleeves of the jacket until her hips bumps into it and she’s leaning over a little. Bellamy inhales, smiling at Clarke before exhaling into her mouth. Clarke’s thankful that her hands took automatic leverage on the railings earlier or she might fall from how close Bellamy’s lips are from hers, all wet and so fucking _alluring_.

“You liked that?” Bellamy says, pulling back slightly.

“Liked what?” Clarke asks, a little confused and there’s that thick air around them again. Like they both know what they want but neither of them are doing anything about it.

This time though. This time is a little different because Bellamy leans in again, no smoke in his mouth whatsoever, and presses his lips firmly against Clarke’s. Clarke let’s out a surprised sound at the back of her throat but it’s not surprising when Clarke moves her lips a little shyly against Bellamy’s. It’s not surprising that Bellamy tastes like black coffee and cigarettes, that Clarke finds herself wanting to taste more. When they break apart, Bellamy offers her a sly grin, turning his head slightly to take another drag, not breaking eye contact for one second. He turns back, tilts his chin up slightly and exhales through his nose. Clarke’s gaze follows the beautiful soft swirl of the smoke before it disappears into the atmosphere.

“That,” he says, raising his hand to Clarke’s face. Fingers tracing the outline of Clarke’s lips, pulling the bottom slightly to reveal pearly white teeth. “Hope you’re not mad,”

“Tch,” Clarke clicks her tongue for the second time that night. “Of course I’m mad. My cigarette is somewhere on the lawn, now moist and _wasted_ , and all I got was a peck. You have got to be kidding me,” She rolls her eyes at him but winds her hands around his neck and pull him into a more heated kiss, the jacket falling off her shoulders.

When Bellamy pulls back and pushes away from the railing, panic shoots up Clarke’s spine. She’s about to ask what’s wrong and apologise for misreading the situation but Bellamy is jumping over the railing, kicking the jacket aside and pulling Clarke back to where they left off. He guides Clarke backwards until her back meets the wall and presses closer to her, swallowing her gasps as he licks into her mouth.

“Kids! Get inside before you catch a cold!” the old lady yells again before shutting her door.

Bellamy breaks the kiss, resting their foreheads together. Both of them are panting a little heavily and Clarke’s ready for round two when she feels Bellamy’s hands roam down her back again. But he pulls out another cigarette from Clarke’s pack and Clarke’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“You said it was the last one!” she gasps, throwing him light punches again but Bellamy pins her back to the wall, pecking her several times all over her face, grinning like crazy.

“If I hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have an excuse to kiss you, stupid,”

“Dick. Now I’m mad all over again,” Clarke pouts ever so slightly, praying Bellamy reads in between the lines.

Bellamy coos at her, inhaling long and hard before kissing Clarke silly.

Clarke’s anger dissipates with the thinning smoke around them.

“Better?” Bellamy whispers as they break away for air.

“Mm, much better,” Clarke hums and lets Bellamy exhale into her mouth again.

* * *

 

An hour ago, Clarke steps into her apartment, tosses her bag aside and goes out to check if Bellamy’s at the balcony. He is, she discovers, back facing their apartments and Clarke sees the smoke floating in the air above him. She tiptoes outside and leans towards Bellamy as quiet as possible.

“Hello my handsome neighbour,” she says, acting as naturally as possible. Bellamy turns to her with a wide grin and a ‘hello to you too’ before leaning in for a kiss. When Clarke slips her tongue out to clash with Bellamy’s, his reaction was great. His eyes snap open, gasping out a ‘shit’ and arching his brows in question. Clarke giggles, feeling satisfied with her little surprise and sticks out her tongue to lick at her lips obscenely, the metal ball on her tongue clanking on her teeth with the action.

“Little fucker,” Bellamy curses and Clarke doesn’t take offense. Rather, she leans forward, elbows resting on the railing, trying to look seductive.

“So?” Clarke grins, all smug and challenging.

“So,” Bellamy leans closer until they’re lips are barely touching. “You better come closer,”

 

But that was an hour ago, now is now and Bellamy still looks like he can’t quite grasp the fact that Clarke has a tongue piercing. His eyes still follow the movement of her tongue whenever Clarke slips her tongue out to wet her lips or to simply play with the ball.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” he questions, staring intently at the shining metal ball again as Clarke moves the muscle of her tongue.

“At first. It’s okay now though,” she answers, inhaling and blowing out into the sky again.

“I can’t believe you kept this from me. You were out for two weeks and you come back with that... thing. Did you even find the ‘inspiration’ you wanted to?” Narrows his eyes as if to come off provocative.

“I wanted to see your reaction so I stayed silent,” Clarke shrugs.

“Can’t say I’m disappointed,” he grins, taking a drag from his own cigarette, almost left forgotten on the ash tray.

“Me too,” Clarke smiles back. “Finally got your own pack, Blake?”

“Of course, now that I have other excuses to see you,” Bellamy’s smirking and Clarke takes up the challenge he’s posing this time.

“Oh yeah? And what will that be?” she smirks right back, running her tongue along the edges of her teeth and knowing perfectly well she’s fighting back strong this time, if the dilation of Bellamy’s pupils is any indication.

“I have to find out on other –” pauses to ponder. “Advantages of this piercing and you’re the only person I know with one so you have to help me out,”

Clarke feels herself heat up at the indirect implication. Mutters under her breath something about ‘sly asshole’ before looking up to meet Bellamy’s eyes. “Okay,”

“Okay?” Bellamy raises his eyebrows, a little amused and shocked.

“Yes okay,” Clarke supresses rolling her eyes, opting instead to suggestively wet her lips, the piercing cool and shiny against her pink lips. She turns to walk back into her apartment, throwing Bellamy a wink before walking in, leaving the door open.

“Fuck,” she hears Bellamy curse before hearing the ruffling sound of Bellamy’s bomber jacket and knows he’s on her side of the balcony already.

She smiles inwardly. She’d score this round.

* * *

 

“Babe, you’ve been driving me _crazy_ ,” Bellamy hisses, mouthing along Clarke’s jaw and neck, hands slipping under her shirt.

It’s been a week since Clarke’s return and Bellamy has had enough. The piercing has been both a blessing and curse for Bellamy. Over the span of five days, Clarke has been ‘absentmindedly’ licking her lips, ‘absentmindedly’ sucking her fingers in thought, ’absentmindedly’ stretching to reveal a slit of her navel but never enough to show off the piercings on her hips, ‘absentmindedly’ driving Bellamy up the wall. It’s Saturday and Bellamy don’t think he can take anymore teasing or he might combust.

“You’re going to fuck me here in broad daylight? What if someone sees us?” she gasps out. Clarke doesn’t really care if somebody does. Not when Bellamy’s hips against hers feels so good and her head is a little fuzzy.

“Mm, I was wondering where Mrs Green is,” Bellamy mumbles against her skin. As if on cue, they hear the door to the old lady’s house open and Mrs Green makes her way outside.

“Quick, quick!” Clarke hisses, pulls away from Bellamy and pushes herself off the wall. Grabs Bellamy’s wrist and pulls him inside the apartment hurriedly. They’re laughing and feeling so giddy from the adrenaline that they nearly tripped over the carpet yet none of them seems too concerned.

 

“Babe?” Bellamy calls out and Clarke simply hums to tell him she’s listening.

They’re both exhausted and well-spent. Sex had never felt this great before and Clarke curses because she’ll never find hips as good as Bellamy’s ever.

Bellamy turns to lie on his side so they’re facing each other. His eyes transfixed on the four silver balls on Clarke’s hips, fingers tracing them so carefully as if they would break Clarke if he touches a little too hard.

“Have I told you how ridiculously gorgeous you are?” he whispers, drawing his eyes back up to look at her face. Clarke hums again. “Well, I lied. You’re a fucking masterpiece. Everything about you. Masterpiece,”

“Me? You’re the one who’s a piece of art, quite literally,” she snorts, drawing a map on the tattoos inking Bellamy’s chest.

It’s a little bit odd being this sappy. It’s been months since they’re first meeting and all they ever did was shamelessly flirt and banter with each other. Clarke was not oblivious to the tension between them from all the teasing and challenges. It was fun to rile up Bellamy a little like a casual conversation between friends over coffee and cigarettes. So now, laying naked in bed, being straightforward and a little vulnerable with each other, feels a little bit odd but Clarke doesn’t mind it at all.

“DARK ANGEL,” Clarke reads out, tracing the words over his collarbones. “You couldn’t choose something better to describe you,” Leans in to peck the black cursive words before snuggling her head at the crook of his neck. She feels Bellamy tracing odd patterns on her shoulders and sighs contently as he presses a firm kiss onto her temple.

“I love you, Princess,” Bellamy whispers into her hairline and Clarke almost misses the muffled words.

“Great. So there’s the two of us,” looks up to peck at his nose. “I love you too, Bell,”

Clarke may never find someone else with amazing hips ever. Never find someone else who tastes so much of coffee and cigarettes and love. Someone else with a map of his whole world on his skin and constellations in his eyes. Clarke may never find someone so much so like Bellamy Blake ever.

But she won’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> tHANK YOU for reading!!   
> i'm quite happy with this one and i hope yall liked it too!!  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated, they make me soo happy :>
> 
>  
> 
> ((ps. I'm still working on We're Kinda There (But Not Quite). I'm just kinda busy with school to advance with that story but I am nOT abandoning it!!!! thank you for patiently waiting, hehe))


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